Forever
by melissaeverdeen13
Summary: A one-shot cut into three parts based on three songs for Taylor Swift's 'Reputation' - Dress, Delicate and New Year's Day. If you haven't heard the songs yet, you should at least look up the lyrics!


_**DRESS**_

There's soft music playing in the background, almost overshadowed the voices of everyone in the ballroom. I have a flute of champagne in one hand, daintily held in my fingers, as I survey the room and look for the one face I want to see.

We spoke earlier, during our shift. Talked about how different everyone would look out of their scrubs, and how the gala would be a nice way to socialize without the threat of our pagers going off at any moment.

We're surgical residents. We don't get much time for frivolous gatherings. Not that this is frivolous, but it's lighthearted and social. It's nice. I usually feel out of place at parties, but I don't tonight. Tonight, though I'm not talking to much of anyone, I feel like I belong. I might blend into the woodwork a bit, but that's okay. I prefer that end of the spectrum than the opposite.

I take a sip of my bubbly drink and scan the room once more. Without finding what I'm looking for, I lower my glass and turn around, only to practically run right into him.

I smile breathlessly as Jackson plants his hands on my waist to steady me, then look up to meet his eyes. "You made it," I say.

His hands come off. "I did."

He looks incredible, dressed in a sharp suit with a black jacket and white shirt. He's all sharp lines, defined creases and darts. His eyes stand out like sea glass against wet sand.

He melts me.

"You look… fantastic," I say, smiling.

Since we transferred to Seattle Grace as first-year residents, we've become close friends. Best friends, even. But those lines have been blurred lately, after we woke up together on his couch after a late night spent studying and kissed like it was something we did every day. I still remember the way his body felt under mine; sturdy, strong, capable. But his lips were something completely different - soft, plush, pliable.

I discovered that he's an amazing kisser. In the short moments we spent making out, he took care of me and made me feel anything but inexperienced. He lit my body on fire. It was the first time I'd ever done something like that.

So, since that incident, we've been treading water. Put on pause, not moving forward or back.

My breath catches in my throat as I watch him gracefully take a flute from a passing tray. His hands are my favorite - he's so confident in the way they work, inside and out of the OR.

I want those hands on me. I want them touching me, exploring, pushing, pulling, making me his own.

I lick my lower lip and pull it subtly into my mouth, worrying it with my teeth.

I hope he feels the same.

"Thanks," he says. "You do, too. Stunning."

I'm wearing a strapless black dress with a sweetheart neckline. It's simple, floor-length, and tight. My neck is bare, hair pulled into an updo, sparkly studs in my ears.

My nails are painted a deep red, lips the same.

When I zipped myself into the dress earlier tonight, I stared at my reflection and straightened my shoulders, corrected my posture, folded my hands at my waist. My look was understated and feminine, and I loved the way the fabric of the dress felt as it whispered around my legs.

Much later into the night, the fabric ghosts against my skin again as the dress comes off. With his mouth against the nape of my neck, Jackson stands behind me and pulls the zipper down at an incredibly slow pace. But I relish every moment as my spine tingles, feeling his lips travel up towards the slope of my shoulder.

"You're beautiful," he says, the zipper having reached its end.

I sigh softly, tipping my head to the side. "Thank you," I say.

He trails one finger down my back, all the way to the curve at the bottom, and my skin explodes with chills. I close my eyes and the dress falls over my waist to land in a circle around my feet. Suddenly I'm naked, save for my black underwear and high heels, in front of my best friend.

I turn around, arms covering my chest. He meets my eyes and holds my jaw in one hand, using the other to rest on my shoulder. "Do you want this?" he asks.

I nod without hesitating, then move my arms to wrap around his neck. I pull him down for a kiss, one that lasts an eternity as we go slow and memorize each other from the inside out.

"Yes," I say, feeling the fabric of his shirt rub against my breasts. "I only bought that dress so you would take it off."

He makes a sound from his throat, tightening his arms low on my back to pull my body flush to his. I push his suit jacket off of his shoulders and he shakes his arms so it lands on the floor, then moves his hands to hold my face and slip his tongue into my mouth.

We make it to the bed, his bed. My heels come off, but my underwear stays on, at least for the time being. I unbutton Jackson's shirt painstakingly as his chest heaves, impatient as he waits for me to get it off, but I take my time. Once his sculpted form is bared, I take him by the shoulders and flip us around so I'm sitting on his stomach.

His eyes are hungry and alive, pupils huge as his thumbs massage my hip bones. I bend at the waist and kiss his neck, moving lower to his chest where I can feel his heart beating through his skin. I rub my palms deftly over his pecs, feeling his nipples harden because of it, and draw a line of gentle kisses across his collarbones.

When he gets my underwear off and puts his mouth on me, I've never felt more like a woman. He's at my mercy, face between my thighs, making me feel things I never knew I wanted. And now, I need those feelings - my desire for him is so hot and heavy I can barely see straight. As he makes me come with his tongue in circles, my whole body vibrates and my back lifts from the mattress, out of my control. He's taken me out of my own body.

And when he sinks inside of me, my inner muscles stretch to accommodate his impressive size. I grapple at his torso, desperate to pull him closer, get him near me, and he obliges. He switches our position so his back is against the headboard with my thighs spread wide over his lap, our bodies folded together.

He urges my hips forward with a snap of his wrists, and I start grinding slowly. I let my forehead fall to his shoulder, then press my face into his neck with my mouth open, breath falling against his balmy skin. He wraps his arms tight around my mid-back, keeping my chest pressed to his, as he drags his nails over my spine.

"You feel so good," he moans, in the thick of it.

"So do you," I breathe, shoving my hips against his again. I can feel that my release is close, and I'll do anything to get there. "I've never felt like this before."

"Neither have I."

When it happens, I come with a long, drawn-out moan that makes my whole body shudder. My shoulders jolt and cave in as I grab his face, kissing him with everything I have while my muscles tense and let go. I keep moving, encouraging him to find the edge too, and I don't rush. When it's his turn, he lets me know as his eyes roll and he throws his head back, exposing his neck so I can run my tongue over his Adam's apple.

As his body continues to jerk, he hugs me close and holds the back of my head with one hand, petting my hair softly. My breath comes in shuddering gusts; I'm in disbelief that what just happened actually occurred, but at the same time knew it would eventually.

He was my first. And looking at him in the low light, I hope he'll be my last.

I gasp as that thought crosses my mind without permission. I had no idea my feelings for him were so strong - I thought it was just lust. But I don't think that's correct anymore.

As he holds me, cherishes me, doesn't let me move, I hope he won't ask me to leave. I've never had a one-night stand before, but I never considered myself the type of girl who would. If that's how tonight works out, I tell myself I won't regret it, but I still don't prefer it.

I want to stay. I want to wake up in his t-shirt and kiss him in the morning, slow and sleepy. I want to simply just be with him.

"Stay," he says, seemingly reading my thoughts. It catches me so off-guard that I wonder for a fleeting second if I was accidentally speaking out loud. "Will you?"

I nod slowly, framing his face. As I study his features, he smiles.

"Is it the eyes?" he asks.

I roll mine. "No," I say. "Be quiet."

He kisses me, soft and sweet. I hold onto the way his lips taste.

"Do you want to take a bath?" he asks, skimming the pads of his fingertips up and down my bare back. It crosses my mind that he's still inside me, soft now, but still there. I don't mind at all, and I make no move to adjust.

"With you?" I say.

"The tub's big," he says, nuzzling my jaw with his nose. "We'll fit."

"Sure," I say.

"And I have wine."

I haven't taken a bath with another person since I was five years old, with my sister Kimmie. I have a feeling this time will be much different - at least, I hope so. I hope Jackson doesn't hoard the bath toys and blow suds in my eyes.

I giggle aloud at the thought.

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing," I say, and dismount. "Go fill up the water."

I wrap the sheet around my body as the faucet turns on, though Jackson walked to the bathroom completely naked. I couldn't help but stare at his physique - the rippling muscles of his upper back, the swell of his biceps, the round of his ass, his powerful legs. Everything about him is so masculine, and so attractive. I was practically drooling as I watched him go.

"It's ready," he calls, and I walk towards the yellow light with the sheet still loose around me. I come through the bathroom door and find him already in the water, surrounded by bubbles.

"Bubbles, too?"

"I went all out."

I notice the two glasses of wine that sit on the ledge and know I'll have to be careful when I get in. He was right, there's plenty of room, but the tub is deep, not wide. He wants me on his lap.

I want to be there, too. But suddenly, my confidence is waning.

"You gonna drop that sheet?" he asks, eyebrows up.

I laugh nervously, holding the edges tight. I want to drop it, I want to be all in, no holds barred. But now, after the heat of the previous moment has passed, I'm second-guessing everything.

"I've seen it all already," he says, lifting a glass to take a sip of wine. "Seen it, touched it… made it come."

My cheeks flush. "Jackson," I mutter.

"It's true," he says, lowering the glass and his voice.

I take a deep breath and let the sheet go. His eyes drink me in as I approach the tub, and the water is warm when I stick my left foot in close to the edge.

"I want that… here," he says, placing it on his other side. Then, he whispers, "Come on in. Get closer."

I place both feet in the water and bend my knees, mostly because I feel so incredibly bare and stripped and the water helps with that. But once my knees are on either sides of his hips and his arms are locked around the small of my back, I feel better.

"There you are," he says, and I can't help but smile. "Are you glad we did… what we did?"

"Yes," I say. "Are you?"

"Definitely."

He picks up his glass of wine again, then hands me the other. I take a sip, but as he adjusts underneath me, spill a bit of it into the sudsy water.

"Oops," I giggle, and he kisses my face all over.

I've had one single sip of alcohol, but I feel drunk. Drunk on lust, or whatever this is. Drunk on him, that's for sure.

As I look at his face, the real world tries to push in on the bubble we've created. He transfers hospitals next week; we won't work together anymore. He's moving to practice at Tulane, and I don't know if I'll ever see him again.

I can't help but wonder if that's what tonight was all about. A last hurrah of sorts. I sigh, and come to accept the fact that even if it was, that's alright. At least it happened.

But it's going to hurt that much worse when he's not mine anymore.

 _ **DELICATE**_

Our official goodbye was short and sweet. It ended with a kiss on the lips and his fingers weaving through my hair, holding until he couldn't reach anymore as I walked away. It was hard, but I've been trying to push it out of my mind and focus on other things.

It hasn't been easy.

So, when I walk into the hospital on Monday morning and see Jackson standing where he usually does at the nurses' station, I think I must be hallucinating. I stop in my tracks, blink hard, frozen until he looks up and makes eye contact.

"April," he says warmly.

"You're here," I say, eyebrows furrowing. I quicken my pace as I walk to him and he hugs me tight, and I stay for a long time. Neither of us want to be the first to break it, but I do eventually so I can ask one of the million questions running through my head. "What… what's going on? Aren't you supposed to be at Tulane?"

He shakes his head slowly, a smile easing onto his lips before fading again. "I couldn't," he says.

"You… couldn't? What?" I say.

He presses his lips together. "No," he says.

"Why?"

With one hand, he tucks a piece of hair behind my ear and holds my jaw intimately, like I'm made of something sacred. "I couldn't leave here," he says. "Leave you. I just couldn't."

I'm stunned. I can barely comprehend the words coming from his mouth. Around here, my reputation has never been worse. So, he must like me for me.

Somehow.

"You like me?" I ask, unable to keep the words at bay.

"Yeah," he says, smiling bashfully. "I thought I was pretty obvious about that."

I blush. "I-I didn't… I didn't know if-if it was casual or… not to you, I didn't know, I…" I clear my throat. "I didn't know."

"It wasn't casual at all," he says. "God, April. You're so cute."

I blush again, hotter this time. I cover my cheeks with my hands.

"Hey," he says, winding his arms low on my back and pulling me close. My chest lines up with his torso; I can feel him breathing against me. I wonder if he can feel my heart hammering against him. "I wanna ask you something."

I look up at him, feeling drunk again. "What?"

With the tip of his nose pressed to mine, he says, "Will you go on a date with me?"

 _ **NEW YEAR'S DAY**_

The morning of January 1st is gray and cold. I'm awake first, head pounding from a hangover, with my hands pressed to the windowpane in Jackson's bedroom.

The party last night had been awesome. All of our friends came over and I found it within myself not to care that his house was getting trashed. After a few drinks, it didn't really matter. We'd been having fun, everyone was laughing, and we rang in the new year together. It was an amazing feeling.

I blink against the sharp white light, cringing as another bout of dizziness hits me. I can't remember how many drinks I had last night, but it was a lot more than the single glass of wine I usually allow myself. We had shots, beer, wine, champagne… it was a lot.

So, it doesn't surprise me that Jackson is still dead to the world. As I turn around, I see him half-covered with the sheet, lying on his stomach with his bare back exposed. His arms are tucked under the pillow with his mouth open slightly, and there's glitter dotting his face from last night's confetti.

I smile to myself and pad over to his side of the bed. I sit on the edge, then cover his back with my cheek resting between his shoulder blades, fingertips trailing down his biceps. I kiss what I can reach of his warm skin and massage him gently, squeezing tight after I've finished.

"Wake up…" I sing softly.

His breathing changes and he takes a deep inhale. "Mmph…" he grunts.

"It's past noon," I say, peering around to look at his face before he hides it in the pillow. "Happy new year."

"Hap… n… mmph," he slurs.

I giggle. "What was that?"

"Hangover…" he groans. "From hell."

"Me, too," I say, then reach to grab the glass of water I brought from the kitchen a while ago. "Here. Drink this."

"I can't move."

I laugh again and nudge him. "Don't be a baby."

He sits up and takes the glass from me, downing it in a few gulps. He puts it back after he's done and looks at me, a smile edging onto his face.

"How come you look cute hungover, and I look like a river monster?" he asks.

I shove his chest gently. "Stop," I say. "I look horrible."

He shakes his head. "Uh-uh," he says. "No way." He pulls my waist so we're much closer, chest-to-chest. "I don't think you should ever wear anything else but my t-shirts."

"Even to work?"

He nuzzles his nose against my cheek. "Even to work," he says.

"But they're so big on me."

"That's the best part," he says, hands slinking up the back of it to touch my bare skin. "Easy access."

I giggle and kiss him, laughing against his mouth. "You're a perv," I say.

"But I'm your perv."

"True."

With his hands around my ribcage, he pulls me down to lie flat on the bed so he can hover over me, hands everywhere while we kiss each other senseless. Nothing about this morning is rushed or hurried; the house is empty save for us. This is all we need .

With one hand on my breast under the t-shirt, Jackson kisses my neck and makes me weak. I stare up at the ceiling while my hands ghost over the back of his head, and with fluttering eyelashes say, "We have to clean up the house. It's a wreck."

"Mmm…" he moans, somewhat unhappily. "But that would meaning taking my hand off your boob. And I don't think I'm ready for that."

I roll my eyes. "All I can think about is the mess downstairs," I say. "It's not gonna clean itself."

"I wish it would."

I push his hand out from under my shirt and sit up. "Come on," I say. "It won't take that long if we work together. Just let me put on pants."

"Aw," he says, grabbing at my hips as I try to walk away. "Do you have to?"

I shriek and push him off. "Yes!" I say, and continue to laugh as I walk towards the closet.

Downstairs is worse than I imagined, but after we put some music on and find a groove, it isn't unpleasant work. My job is to gather the bottles and put them in trash bags to bring to bottle return at the grocery store, even though Jackson says we should just recycle them. I tell him that that is recycling, but with a bonus for us. No matter how unused to it he is, he goes along eventually.

He works on turning the furniture the right way and getting stains out of the fabric. There are so many unidentifiable spills that it's worrisome, but I bought him the best cleaning products around. They'll come out after a few tries.

We work for a long time, exchanging sporadic conversation and jokes, making each other laugh.

During a quiet moment between songs, I'm on my hands and knees on the rug scrubbing at a spot. I've picked up all the bottles and they're waiting in bags by the door, so I thought I'd help him with his task.

I feel eyes on me. I look up and find Jackson staring, a warm look on his face.

"What?" I say, amused.

He shakes his head softly, eyes gleaming. "I love you," he says.

My chest floods with heat and feeling. He's the first one to say it - in the moment I'd been least expecting it. I open my mouth in a wide smile and let out a gust of air, unable to put my whirlwind thoughts into coherent words. So, instead, I just reply in the best way I know how.

"I love you, too," I say.

From his place on the rug, he crawls over. As I shift to sit, he places one hand on either side of my hips, smiling as his face gets closer and closer.

"What are you doing?" I ask playfully.

"Kissing you," he says, following through. His lips move against mine like slow embers, parting so the warmth from our mouth melts together. "Kissing the love of my life."

I lie down on the rug, his leg between both of mine. "I like the sound of that," I say.

"I love you," he says, tucking his face into my neck and kissing me there. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

I smile giddily, eyes on the ceiling as I wrap my arms around his back. Knowing we'll make love here on the half-stained rug on his living room floor, there's no other way I'd rather ring in the new year.

He's all I want. And I have him right here, all to myself, forever.


End file.
